


bite the freckles on our shoulders

by theformerone



Category: Naruto
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair Pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 20:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14755664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theformerone/pseuds/theformerone
Summary: "I know how to do this," Shikamaru says, twisting his wrist as his fist comes up around the head of Neji's cock."And I know you like it when I help you."





	bite the freckles on our shoulders

The back of his neck tastes like salt and sunscreen. He burns easily, even though he's Fire Country born. It's why he usually leaves his hair down, to protect the skin on the back of his neck. It covers his blind spot, and it keeps him from getting sunburnt. 

But today, his hair is pulled up in a high tail. Like this, he could pass for a dark haired Yamanaka from behind. He had been given a D-rank weeding out the expansive gardens on the Hyūga compound, cleaning out the koi ponds, and taste testing Hanabi's blackberry lemonade recipe. 

He had been relegated to the land of D-ranks since the war had ended; his injuries made sure he would never be active duty again. The Hyūga, under Hinata's gentle but firm hand, often asked for Neji's services. With Hinata as clan head, Neji could be sure to know that it was out of kindness and not out of pity or arrogance.

It gave him quality time with his cousins, time to marvel at Hinata's stomach, growing rounder by the day with the boisterous Yamanakas kicking around inside of her. Ino always threatened to use her clan techniques to tell their sons to be kinder to their mother.

And after all that quality time, his thick dark hair had grown stringy with sweat, and Ino had thumped the back of his head before sweeping his brown hair up in her signature ponytail. Hinata had come by off the back porch to give him some sunscreen, applied kindly to the back of his neck and to his nose. 

He's about a shade darker, with a smattering of fresh freckles on the back of his shoulders to join the older ones. He gives a dignified sniff when Shikamaru sidles up behind him, settles his legs around Neji's, presses his stomach to Neji's back. 

"It's too hot for that," he mutters, eyes closed as the oscillating fan blows cool air into his face. 

Their skin sticks together, and with an idle finger, Shikamaru traces the scars the ten-tails left on Neji's torso, eclipsing his old wounds from Kidomaru. 

"Too hot for that, too."

"Hm."

He waves the dark purple twin pop, already dripping onto his hand, in front of Neji's face. He scoffs, but takes it from Shikamaru and snaps it in half. He places the smaller half in Shikamaru's hand, while Shikamaru presses his cheek onto Neji's sweaty, freckled shoulder blade. 

"Storm's gonna hit soon," Neji mumbles around his popsicle. 

"Yeah."

He can feel it in his hands, mostly in his finger, the one he had broken ages ago in his first  _real_ fight, the one with Tayuya when he was a fresh chuunin. That had been the first fight he really thought he might have died in. 

The joints in it get stiff when the weather turns, and in Konoha, summer storms are notoriously vicious. They're brief, but monstrous, pelting the village with thunder and rain for anywhere between two days to three weeks, then leaving as if they never were there.

They were Ame storms, really, but it was rare that the clouds survived the trek from Storm Country to drench Konoha with water. 

"Yours is melting."

Shikamaru looks to where the grape flavored sugar water is curving in rivulets down his fist, dripping onto his thigh and the hard wood floor beside it. He brings his fist to his mouth over Neji's shoulder, and licks at the mess. 

"Huh," he says. "This isn't as good as I remember."

He presses his cheek onto Neji's shoulder, nuzzles it, then traces the scattered path of Neji's freckles with his mouth.

"You're proactive today," Neji muses, twiddling with the bare popsicle stick in his own hand.

He tucks it behind his ear as Shikamaru breathes in the salt and sunscreen and sandalwood smell at the base of Neji's neck.

"Don't tell me," Shikamaru mumbles, absently tossing his mostly melted popsicle onto the grass beneath their feet. "It's too hot for this, too."

Neji's breath doesn't so much as hitch when Shikamaru's hand dips below the waistband of his stained white linen pants. He shifts to open his legs wider while Shikamaru mouths at his throat, his fingers running languid lines up and down Neji's swelling cock. 

"The fan's on," Neji says, tilting his head back to give Shikamaru more space to bite. "I'll be fine."

It's slow, because that's the way that Shikamaru does everything in his life. What most people fail to recognize is the difference between laziness, and taking your time. Shikamaru is intimately aware of the chasm between the two. He was a perfectionist even though he didn't look like one, and getting something done right took time. 

His rhythm is languid and a touch too dry, just dry enough to make Neji buck up into his fist at the end of each stroke, the tip brushing against the soft linen. He swipes his thumb over the head, and drags the beads of precum down the shaft and back up again.

They dry too soon, get too sticky, and Neji takes Shikamaru's hand off his cock to lick a wet line on Shikamaru's hand. He lays the flat of his tongue on Shikamaru's hand, and drags it up his three middle fingers once, then twice before he puts his hand back on his cock. 

Neji folds Shikamaru's fingers around his own cock, but he doesn't move his hand away when Shikamaru starts to move his hand again. He smirks at that, cutting his eyes to look at Neji's half lidded gaze, head tilted back, mouth parted. 

"I know how to do this," Shikamaru says, twisting his wrist as his fist comes up around the head of Neji's cock. 

"And I know you like it when I help you."

There's a satisfied smirk on Neji's face that Shikamaru wants to kiss off. Instead, he bites a bright red mark onto his favorite cluster of freckles and tightens his grip. Neji sighs, keeping pace. From where they are pressed together, Shikamaru can feel the way Neji tenses against him. 

He places the palm of his free hand on the back of Neji's head, slipping fingers into the loose hair there just beneath the band that holds his ponytail together. Then he tugs Neji's head back, short and rough. It gets a breathy moan out of him, makes him grab onto Shikamaru's thigh and dig his fingers into the flesh there. 

Neji pants into the hot summer air, and Shikamaru watches for the split second where Neji realizes he's about to orgasm, can feel those deft fingers curl hard enough to leave red half moons on Shikamaru's thigh. And in the breath that Neji takes before he cries out, Shikamaru tugs his hair back again and buries his mouth at the curve of Neji's shoulder and throat. 

They make a mess of Neji's already dirt stained linen pants, and as Neji comes down, Shikamaru still tugging softly at him through his orgasm, Neji blinks down at his trousers, dissatisfaction written in his pale eyes. 

"You're doing laundry tonight," he mutters, relaxing his hold on Shikamaru's leg. 

"Don't worry," Shikamaru asks, extracting his hand from beneath Neji's pants. "I'm in a very proactive mood."

He releases Neji's hair and rises from behind him, then steps into the soft green grass on their back porch. Neji lifts an eyebrow as Shikamaru gets on his knees, and tugs the waist of the dirty linen pants down around Neji's half hard cock, bunching up the fabric just beneath his balls. 

"I'm going to clean you up right now."

He keeps his eyes up as he dips his head, and sucks one of Neji's balls and the messy linen into his mouth. Shikamaru watches Neji's eyes flutter shut, and he takes his time.

**Author's Note:**

> this was fluff and then it became unrepentant summer porn ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ what can ya do?


End file.
